


And the sun in the heavens cease to shine

by Carmarthen



Category: 16th & 17th Century CE RPF, Shakespeare RPF
Genre: Anachronistic Dialogue, Elizabethan, M/M, Marlovian, RPS - Freeform, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-17
Updated: 2011-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:25:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmarthen/pseuds/Carmarthen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will doesn't want Kit to go to Italy. Note: dialogue is anachronistic in style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the sun in the heavens cease to shine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scalesandfins](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=scalesandfins).



> The premise here is based on some PBS "Who was the real Shakespeare?" type program which posited that Shakespeare and Marlowe were co-writers, with Shakespeare being responsible for the "low comedy" and Marlowe for the more highbrow bits. Marlowe's exile in Italy would also explain the Italian setting of several of the plays. I personally am a Stratfordian to the core, but I thought the concept was an interesting idea to play with.
> 
> Title is from "Bläck (Ink)" by Garmarna, a really fabulous Swedish folk rock band. Adri's prompt was "Shakespeare, Marlowe, ink, lamp, glass."

Will stares at his hands. Dirt under his fingernails, scratches about the knuckles, hands freshly scrubbed and smelling of soap, not perpetually inkstained like Kit's. He's a decent actor and a damn fine director, and that's all he'll ever be. Kit is mad if he thinks otherwise.

"Listen, Will," Kit says, thin, pale face intense in the lamplight. "England's getting too dangerous for me. I've got to leave."

Will frowns. "Couldn't you just--lie low for a while? Until this blows over?"

Kit catches Will's nervous hands in his and squeezes. "That's just it, Will. It's not going to blow over this time."

"Bugger," Will mutters.

Kit laughs, a warm, rich sound. Will misses it already.

"Well, we could, but that wouldn't solve anything." Kit's face grows serious again and he glances out the window at the darkened streets, his eyes for a moment fierce and bright in the glass.

"And see, this way I can still write. I can send the plays back, and you'll publish them, Will. You can bring them to life onstage like no-one else. Please, Will."

Will sighs and brings Kit's hand to his lips for a moment. "Very well, Kit," he says, "but I don't like it."

Kit's mouth softens a bit and he brushes Will's cheek with his fingertips. "It'll be for the best," he says. "You'll see."

"Perhaps," Will says, but he lets Kit take his hand and draw him over to the bed, and they do not speak of Italy for a time.

 _For the rocks will split and shatter just like ice,  
And the sun in the heavens cease to shine,  
And the forest will turn into a white dove,  
Ere, my dear, you and I will parted be._  
-"Bläck," Garmarna (trans. Alistar Cochrane)


End file.
